


post you blues

by dnfer



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, bonus prizes if you can recognise everyone who's offhandedly mentioned, overuse of actual names for no particular reason, the dream team all live together in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnfer/pseuds/dnfer
Summary: George's just standing there, old Rolling Stones tee thrown haphazardly on, but his hair is wild and his scruff's growing out again and his eyes are dulled with sleep but bright all the same, and Dream can't do anything but sit there and oh fucking no, because this isn't meant to happen. There are guidelines. Dream can't be fucking attracted to his long-term best friend.(But oh god, if he could sit back and let George crawl into his lap and watch his face as he slings his arms around Dream's neck and maybe kiss up his jawline a little...)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 6
Kudos: 143





	post you blues

**HE'S KNOWN FOR YEARS NOW.**

It's almost scary, looking back and realising all the times it presented itself, rearing its head like a beast scratching through Dream's flesh, and all the times he's managed to fight it back, through drinking and ignoring it and physically going against what his head tells him to do.

The ocean is rolling at his feet; he takes another drag of the cigarette balanced precariously in his fingers. Their street and the beach as a whole is quiet at the moment, and for a short while, Dream stays at the tide, leaning back on the sand, watching the waves glint back at him as he exhales softly, slowly.

He has an overwhelming urge to thank something, to say thank you to some higher power for helping him through this far, but the words are stuck as nothing but an idea in his head. It makes him feel worse than he rationally should.

Instead, he scoffs at himself for being so emotional, throws back another sip of his beer, grinds the cigarette into the wet sand under the heel of his left Nike, and returns back to their house.

**———**

**HE AWAKES TO THE SOFT TAP OF SAPNAP’S HAND** on his shoulder, to the gentle sound of George asking if he's okay, and the floorboards cutting into Dream's face go to show that he most definitely collapsed on his way back into the house last night.

_He's a mess. It was only a few metres. He wants to cry._

He is crying. Sapnap mumbles quietly as he drags the younger man up, supporting his weight as much as he can as he drags Dream into the downstairs bathroom, seating him cross-legged on the toilet as he runs the bath. "It'll be okay, Clay, come on, bro. You're safe, you're okay."

Dream shakes his head so hard the room spins around him, and Sapnap is again by his side, gripping his shoulders and forcing him to stay still. It's a definite fact that he doesn't deserve this kind of love. It's a concrete fact that he will never deserve this type of love, but Sapnap dishes it out so freely that Dream has no choice but to take it.

Slowly, quietly, the older man leads him through the motions and eventually he's lying in soft sheets, warm and cosy, a direct juxtaposition to the jagged heartbreak inside of him, scratching at his insides as he breathes quietly into the cotton scent.

"I've got you." Sapnap says as he drifts away into sleep, and Dream can live with that. He can live with Sapnap looking after him. That's okay.

**———**

**"MORNIN'."**

George just grunts something non-committal in response from his position by the fridge, and Dream doesn't look up from his cereal. He's mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, liking a Tweet or two here and there. The hangover's too intense for him to focus on anything longer than a sentence, and one major aspect of this move was to get them away from inciting endless drama and rumours, but Dream can't not have a bit of fun every once in a while.

"Has Sap drank all the juice again?"

Dream looks up to shrug his non-answer, and oh.

_Oh no._

George's just standing there, old Rolling Stones tee thrown haphazardly on, but his hair is wild and his scruff's growing out again and his eyes are dulled with sleep but bright all the same, and Dream can't do anything but sit there and oh fucking no, because this isn't meant to happen. There are guidelines. _Dream can't be fucking attracted to his long-term best friend._

_But oh god, if he could sit back and let George crawl into his lap and watch his face as he slings his arms around Dream's neck and maybe kiss up his jawline a little..._

"I t-think he might have, I'm not sure." He forces out, and somehow, George believes it, mumbling something about kicking his ass and leaving Dream to hyperventilate into his cornflakes.

**———**

**IT'S NOT THAT DREAM’S FAMILY WERE PARTICULARLY** against the whole issue, but it was difficult for him growing up in a house where it was constantly used as an insult; even his best friends threw around a few slurs at first, until they began to steadily realise how wrong it was and grew out of it.

Still, Dream can't help but reflexively cringe at anything related to the subject of sexuality. It's built into him. He wishes he could turn it off.

**———**

**SAPNAP ONLY REAPPEARS THAT AFTERNOON,** mumbling something about feeling sick and staying in bed as he buries his head in George's neck. The younger man just sighs and scratches at his hair the way he likes it, and Dream swallows at the sight. He wants to bury his head in George's neck. He wants George to scratch his hair.

_Shit. No, Dream doesn't want that. No._

"Mmm, Clay, you good? Look like you've seen a ghost."

He snaps out of it. "Yeah, chill, sorry. Got a little.... in my head." The lie is so transparent it may as well be cellophane; Sapnap isn't as easily fooled as George, and Dream feels like he's being stared straight through, as if he can see every sordid little secret he's currently harbouring.

"You can always talk to us, Clay." George says quietly, and Dream can almost feel his heart break.

**———**

**GEORGE IS A NATURALLY CUDDLY HUMAN BEING,** and Dream knows he can only put off physical contact for so long, but he still internally snaps when the younger man bodily presses himself onto the tiny couch and hums into Dream's neck.

"Stop avoidin' my cuddles." He grumbles, shuffling around until he's more on Dream than the sofa itself, and every single point at which their skin touches is another small flame, scarring him. "Just want to love you."

The other man laughs, moving onto his back so George can lie on top of him, chest-to-chest. "No, you don't. You just want me to do somethin' for you... So what?"

A flush sets in across George's cheeks. "D'you want to come out with us tonight? Just a few drinks, me and you and the boys..."

Dream sits back and considers it for a lot longer than he should - it'd do him some good to unwind and get some time out of this house for a while, but at the same time, it's clear that George is inferring they'll hook up with someone, and he's in no stable place for that. Not now, not ever.

"Yeah, course! What harm can it do?"

**———**

**DREAM RESOLVES TO LIE TO GEORGE,** complaining that he suddenly 'feels ill' and has to 'stay in bed and whine', but George won't have any of it. The younger man resorts to literally pulling at Dream's t-shirt, his fingers brushing against his bicep in the lightest possible way and making his head spin deliciously.

"Clay." He pouts, eyelashes flickering against his cheeks as he watches Dream's face for any sight of a change in his mood. "Come on, I promise I won't leave you this time."

The resulting eye-roll is involuntary as he recalls when George deserted him in favour of some petite brunette. Dream always wondered why he never saw in her what George saw in her, and he's beginning to realise why.

"Only if you're buying." He agrees grudgingly, trying not to delight too much in the sight of the glimmer in George's pupils.

"Of course!" He's grinning, and Dream reluctantly allows himself to be pulled around by the younger man until they're in a taxi to George's club of choice. It's alarmingly easy for him to pull up the facade of being perfectly fine with this, why wouldn't he be? when George smiles all soft and sweet like he currently is, and it's with a sickly jolt that he realises it's all because his blind attraction to his best friend is leading him like a horse with a carrot.

_God, he needs a fucking drink._

**———**

**HE'S SITUATED AT THE BAR** when a girl sidles up to him. She's nondescript (or she is to Dream's eyes) with a nice smile and passable fashion sense, and he can instantly see where the night is going.

"Hey! I'm Tab."

"Is that your name, or are you paying for me?" It's a lame joke at best, but she laughs so hard Dream thinks she might fall off the stool. He likes people like that, people who find everything funny and laugh shamelessly; the whole bar is looking at them in confusion, a few with smiles as if they know Dream's getting some tonight.

She finally straightens up, choking back a final cackle and looking at him. "I can do, if you want. But, yeah, no, I'm Tabitha, friends and fellow bar-goers call me Tab. And you're...?"

"Dream! Friends and fellow bar-goers call me Clay." He punctuates the sentence with a grin and a sip from his drink, hoping he's hiding how much he doesn't want to be there.

They sit in silence for a while, just enjoying (to some extent) each other's company, until the natural progression of the night sweeps them up like a wave. He's twisting up with her on the dance floor; he's smiling and laughing as she whispers into his ear, barely audible over the sound of the club music pumping through the enclosed space.

Her intent to take him home is apparent, but Dream doesn't really realise it until he's piled next to her in a hastily hailed taxi, with her hands on his thighs and his best friend left behind him.

**———**

**THE ROOM IS DARK** \- Dream feels like that must be a metaphor for this whole situation, with everyone involved completely in the dark as to each other's problems.

It's almost as though he's being split, into fractals of glass because who is he anymore? He's the kind of person who uses another human being for his own experimentation, who's losing himself in his own struggling sense of identity and sleeping with people he knows he isn't attracted to in any capacity, just to convince himself he might thankfully be normal.

Dream feels completely detached from his own body, his own brain, as the girl from the bar giggles and presses him back onto the bed,

and then darkness as his shirt goes over his head,

and then darkness as he says _yes_ and shuts his eyes,

_and then._

**———**

**DREAM CAN'T TELL** whether the sickly taste in his mouth is from the alcohol or his own actions from the previous night, but on shaky legs and with a shaky head, he stumbles out of an unfamiliar bed and back into unfamiliar clothes.

She - _her name, what's her name_ \- is still asleep, exhalations moving the fabric of her pillow rhythmically. It's almost mesmerising, and Dream watches for a second before the grime of the previous night rears its head again, and he's picking his shit up off the floor and running as hard and as fast as he can, slamming the thin soles of his shoes onto the tarmac pavement just to feel something more than the numb enveloping him.

It's fuzzy and blurry, the side streets he speeds by seemingly messy with the slick of a paintbrush. Nothing registers in his head, nothing except pure white noise and searing pain. Dream is on fire, every lick of it fuelling his panicked dash back home.

The beach takes way too long to come into view, but at last, the golden sand comes into his line of sight and Dream is choking on the lack of air in his blood as he forces himself onwards and forwards, the promise of George at home propelling him like a jet stream.

God, more than anything, he just wants to see George again. Sapnap is probably still faking an illness to stay in bed, but George is like his lifeline, his latest and only tether to normality anymore.

He feels like he's losing himself in this cyclone of everything that's going on: their move, his family begging him to find a nice girl to settle down with, the constant pressure and his failing sense of identity, because who even is he anymore? He's Dream, yeah, sure, but who is Dream at a deeper level?

Dream collapses against the door, his knees giving out just as he reaches the threshold. There's a soft thud audible from the inside, and the door flicks gently open to reveal Sapnap, his eyes a little dulled but still bright, his black hair soft and curled at the ends.

"Hey, Clay. Missed you, bro, wondered where you were, you didn't text." Sapnap tilts his head slightly. "You good?"

He nods quietly, the shake of his body nearly impossible to see, but Sapnap picks up on it, he always picks up on it.

"D'you... want a cuddle? Come on."

Maybe it's just the idea of being in Sapnap's arms, in some weird way he won't think about too hard right now, that seems overly appealing, but it's as if the younger man can't stop himself. He's grabbed almost instantly, and carried to the sofa without even getting changed.

It's too perfect for Dream to resist. He falls asleep under the blanket, wrapped up in Sapnap's arms, and dares himself to dream about anything except that.

**———**

**ONCE AGAIN, DREAM FINDS HIMSELF** slowly awake to the sight of George, his face so close and so smiley that it's difficult to restrain the urge to just kiss him, right there and now, and ignore the consequences.

_He can't kiss George. He can't ever kiss George. He_ can't. 

It's with a jolt that he realises Sapnap has left him, and the sofa to his back is cold, but George's grin is so warm. George's so warm. The younger man is laughing under his breath as he watches his friend slowly stir and come to; Dream isn't sitting up because that would require not looking at George.

Dream's head is essentially just one big loop of GeorgeGeorgeGeorge, and somehow he wishes he could both turn it off and make it louder. It's so unhealthy for him.

"You alright now?"

_He is not alright._ God, Dream is not alright, because now he's realising it again, realising what he did in a selfish attempt to make himself feel better, and he feels so much worse.

The other man somehow sees this shift in his emotion, but thankfully nothing deeper than that. "Hey, no, Sap just went out to get something to eat for later, he's not deserted you. Come on, come here, give me a proper cuddle."

Remembering how this ended last time, Dream's reluctant. "What do you want this time?” 

George is pouting _(god, he's irresistible)_ as he clambers onto the sofa. "No! Just wanted to make you feel better. Or well, try to make you feel better." With that, he nuzzles up against the other man, the scratch of his stubble light against Dream's throat.

_If only he knew,_ Dream thinks out of pure, violent spite. 

**———**

**IT TAKES A WHILE FOR DREAM TO EVEN CONSIDER** his thoughts as anything past platonic. Late at night, when his heart and his mind and his hands are racing, he's convinced himself that he's thinking about girls.

Maybe it's the worst time for a realisation, but Dream is there, awake, wrapped up in George, and he allows himself to take a step back. From his family, from his friends, from Dream Hood as a persona. For a second, he's just him, as cliche as that sounds.

For a second, Dream mentally stares himself in the eyes, and says it.

_You like men._

He nearly starts crying on the spot then, as if the letters are written in neon lighting inside his head, and he's forced to stare them dead on.

_You are Dream, and you like men._

_And that's okay._

It isn't, it isn't, it isn't at all because he's been raised and told that it's abnormal, that it isn't necessarily wrong, but it's different and it's odd and it's out of the norm. That's the thing, Dream wants to be as normal as he can, doesn't like deviating from what's expected of him, but now he has no choice.

It isn't okay, and so he must be lying to himself. Because he has to be okay. He has to.

**———**

**DESPITE ALL THIS, NOTHING REALLY CHANGES.**

To Dream, it isn't normal, nothing is 'normal' anymore, per se, but George doesn't catch on or act weirdly around him whatsoever, and Dream loosens up a little.

Sapnap comes home later that night, to a quiet house and his two roommates curled up together on the sofa. It's not uncommon to see, but there's something about the energy and the atmosphere that feels more charged than it usually would.

"Are you two alright? You're very.... close."

Dream shoots the older man a glare, not moving from his position on George's lap. There's some sort of conversation between them: Sapnap raises an eyebrow, Dream rolls his eyes, Sapnap rolls his eyes harder, Dream rolls his eyes even harder--

"Just cuddlin'. Got a problem with that?"

The light, sweet tone of George's voice is directly next to Dream's ear, to the point at which he can feel his lips soft on his skin, and it's eating up his insides. It's the simple combination of George's arms wrapped around his waist and the younger man touching him on every possible area of his body, and Dream is free-falling in the sensation.

There's a look in his eyes still, like Sapnap knows something they don't, but he lets it fade and replaces it with a smile. "No, no, carry on. Just wanted to ask if you want to go out somewhere tomorrow?"

George grunts noncommittally, his face now buried in the crook of Dream's neck, his breath gentle against his throat. "Depends."

Sapnap sighs so long and loudly, Dream has to check that a balloon hasn't popped in the near vicinity. "Do you want drinks? I'll buy you drinks. Beach party, tonight. It'll literally be outside the house, so show up or Karl will be pissed at me. I promised I'd bring more people."

With that vague threat (not at all out of character for the younger man), he flounces out of the room - Dream theorises that he's telling the aforementioned Karl about how he plots to get the two of them absolutely smashed. To be fair, Dream has a number of compromising pictures of his best friend, but at least he doesn't to use alcohol to get them.

"D'you want to go? It'll be funny if we don't, Sap’ll get really pissed off."

George seems to think it over for a second, and as always, Dream gets a little lost in the glitter of his irises as he furrows his eyebrows. He's travelled long past beating himself up for thinking George's beautiful, because he is. If there's any one person in the world that is flawless in every way and shape and form, it's always going to be George.

Always.

**———**

**GEORGE CHEERS AS THEY WALK TOWARDS THE CIRCLE OF PEOPLE,** his flannel shirt already partially unbuttoned and a sliver of his toned chest on complete display. Dream is salivating a little.

He's been tasked with carrying the cooler, while George is in charge of a single bottle of Stella that will likely get him halfway laddered within ten minutes. It's the least he could do; one comment from the younger man about how "nice your muscles look", and Dream was tripping over his feet in desperation to get some sort of attention from George.

It's honestly kind of sad, how quickly Dream has allowed himself to fall for George - sad because no matter what, Dream knows he can never have the younger man all to himself, and sad because George can never love him back in the same way, and sad because George is a man and Dream's just so terrified of that, and sad sad _sad._

Of course, George doesn't take any note of Dream's slight pout and furrowed brow as he very clearly thinks this over - he's more focused on getting drunk ('absolutely car-crashed', in his own words) than any possible sexuality crisis his best friend could be having at that moment.

As soon as the small circle sees them, at least two of them jump up and crow in delight as George shouts back, like some sort of frat-boy mating call. Dream recognises them as the infamous Karl, and another guy named Alex, who is a self-proclaimed member of the ‘beanie gang'. This 'gang' consists of Dream, George, and Alex. Neither Dream nor George have endorsed this 'gang'.

It seems as though they're all there for George, but as Dream surveys the ragtag collective, he notices Sapnap's eyes gleaming like he's just seen the best Christmas present of all. Something softens in his chest at the knowledge that his best friend is happy to see him there, at least. Dream has been clearly on the path to another destructive streak lately, with all his drinking and coming home late, but he feels better knowing that Sapnap hasn't lost all faith in him yet.

They settle down, George clapping backs and laughing as though he's known these people his whole life, and every time his face contorts in that ridiculous screechy laugh of his, Dream has to swallow and look away.

Across the circle, through the bonfire that is definitely illegal on this beach, there's a girl, sat, looking directly at Dream. Her hair is pink, flowing down past her shoulders, and her eyes are boring into Dream's like they want to see beyond that. Somehow, under any other context, it'd feel flirtatious, but he doesn't detect that undertone here.

Then, with a jolt, it _clicks._

She's watching him watch George.

She _knows._

And there's something in that knowledge that lessens the weight off Dream's chest a little. Even if she isn't sure, doesn't know the full extent of their situation, she knows more than anyone else, and that's relaxing in some way. He feels as though he's sharing the burden.

Maybe she's in the same boat. That's soothing as well, the fact that Dream isn't the only person in the world to struggle with who he is and fall in love with his straight friend and deal with the unrequited love weighing down his heart and head. He feels slightly more seen, slightly less hurt.

George laughs so hard that he slumps sideways into Dream, beer-sticky lips close to his throat, arm wrapped clumsily around his torso and head pressed against his right bicep. The warmth of his body is hotter than the fire, and he feels like he's about to combust.

"Clay! Did you he... hear that? God, Alex’s so funny."

Dream cannot say he did hear that, but it's okay, he has no time to respond before George is mumbling about wanting to dance and grabbing at his shirt and pulling him up to stand on the sand. There's music pumping from somewhere, some sort of EDM track that fills up the air with hard beats and Dream finds himself swaying to it under George's lead, the two of them seemingly separate from everyone else in the near vicinity.

He lives in his own world at the best of times, but George is lost in the music and Dream is mesmerised, transfixed on the fluid movements of the younger man as he mouths along to the lyrics, eyes shut as he does so.

Dream's eyes are not shut, they're wide open, as he watches George's shirt rise up a little and expose his waistline. He feels like he shouldn't, but he's been completely blindsided.

"My eyes are up here, Dream."

 _Fuck!_ is Dream's only coherent thought, as George grins and pulls him closer by the hips. The touch is driving him insane, intoxicated off something more than the copious amounts of alcohol stored on the sands. He truly didn't expect George to get so obviously drunk off such little, but there's a clear glaze to his eyes that makes Dream want to get closer, to see every shade of blue swirling in them.

God, he is, he's getting closer to George until he can trace every bit of stubble on his face and every dimple in his skin. That's the thing that should catch him out - Dream's kissed and been close to a lot of girls in his lifetime, but George is so obviously and undeniably male, but....

But still, Dream leans in. Neither of them are dancing anymore, and George just has his hands resting on the other man's waist, keeping him stable.

George steps back. Dream's heart takes a flying leap into his throat, but it slips back a little when suddenly, he's being pulled along and towards the underneath of the pier. While he's never been under there specifically, it's notorious for smoking and drinking and making out amongst the youth of the town, and Dream's mind is racing.

Without any show of hesitation, George pulls him around a corner so they're out of sight of the others, and stops, panting for breath as he grips at the fabric of Dream's t-shirt. The sleeve is tight around his bicep, and George's fingertips are brushing against his arm, and Dream's falling for George so far and so fast that he can't stop himself or scrabble to safer ground.

They're both gasping for air: George from dragging a six-foot tall grown man across the unstable sand, and Dream from the adrenaline of what could possibly happen under the shade of the pier. He's been begging every angel, every higher power for this moment, just to have George to himself, and here and now, with the alcohol and the high of the night thrumming through his veins and numbing his usual fears....

"George..." Dream mumbles, and that sets him off.

George's fingers are wrapped in the other man's waves of hair, holding him close as they're finally, _finally,_ making out. Dream swears he tastes of sea salt and strawberry mint and Stella and just _George,_ just everything he could have ever dreamt of, and somehow still it's beyond anything he imagined late at night, when he was hopelessly fixated on his best friend.

It escalates so much quicker than it should; Dream slips his thigh between George's legs and the younger man grinds down instinctively, whimpering quietly into Dream's mouth as he bites down gently on his lower lip. The party feels like it's a million miles away, on a different planet almost: nothing exists to Dream except George's soft noises and the feeling of his hands in his hair.

They pull apart all too soon (in Dream's eyes), gasping for breath again as his brain tries to catch up with what just happened. God, fuck, Dream just kissed his long term best friend and the man he's been in love with longer than he can remember, and he feels like he's running on top of the world, so close to crashing down but too high up to care at this point in time.

**———**

**AND HE CRASHES. LIKE ICARUS INTO THE _FUCKING_ OCEAN, HE CRASHES.**

Dream comes down from the adrenaline high the immediate day after, when he wakes up hungover and feeling half-dead for the third time that week. Everything is rushing at him quick and hot and fast, and it's too much for his still-slowed brain to comprehend.

Somehow, he still feels the sensation of George's lips on his, still tastes the artificial strawberry flavouring that he licked into Dream's mouth. It turns his stomach in a way that the alcohol never could, and he's crying out in near pain as he crumples over in his sitting position.

George must not be awake yet - he makes an alarming level of noise when he does, ensuring that the whole house and every seagull in the near vicinity knows. Dream feels so much more alone in the world, like he's the only one conscious and coping with the pain he's caused.

He went and kissed George while neither of them were sober, went and jeopardised any possible relationship between them. Because now, he theorises, George will never be able to look at him the same, and Dream can't deal with the idea of not having him in his life.

As if it couldn't get any worse, Sapnap appears at the door, far too awake and seemingly jarred by the sight of a shirtless Dream crying his heart out in bed.

"Hey, hey, Clay, what's going on, what's wrong?"

The sobs overtake his body, wracking him back and forth as Sapnap hesitantly comes to hold the younger man, shuffling in behind him and keeping him close. The body heat is comforting, until Dream recalls the feeling of George's body next to his.

"I-I-I c-can't tell you. I'm-m sorry, Sap."

"No, no, you can, I promise you, you can talk to me."

The concept of just coming out to Sapnap on the spot is a tantalising one, but that would just make it so much more real and Dream can't take that as well because he's already ruined everything with George and he can't even confess his sexuality to himself, and how is he meant to stay like this?

"I n-need to talk t-to George, but I don't think he-he's up yet."

Sapnap nods - he understands, he always gets it. He always has, ever since Dream's been scared of speaking out online, or worried about what people are going to think of him, or just feeling lost and needing someone. "Do you want me to fetch him, or...?"

He shakes his head so hard, it spins. Nothing seems worse than the prospect of seeing the younger man right now, not in this state.

"Okay, okay. It's like.... 3am right now, Clay, maybe get some more sleep and we can deal with whatever's happened in the morning, yeah?"

Dream obliges, falling asleep in a mess as Sapnap becomes the second person to leave him that day.

**———**

**DREAM CAN'T MEET GEORGE'S EYES.**

Somehow, strangely, George isn't taking it weirdly. His smiles are almost shy, and every time he looks over, Dream feels his stomach contract in on itself. It's as if he wants Dream to bring it up, as if he wants to make him distinctly uncomfortable.

Sapnap definitely notices the tension, but to his credit, he doesn't mention it. If he did, Dream's pretty sure he would collapse and sob on this kitchen table.

It reaches the point of stiflingly uncomfortable when Sapnap finally stands up, slamming his hands down on the veneer a little too harshly. "I-I'm going to go for a walk? Head's still kinda cloudy from last night so.... I'll see you two at like, lunch time."

 _No, no, no._ Dream wants to grab him by the sleeve and drag him back down and never let him go, because he can't be alone with George right now, he can't, he just _can't._

"Sap...."

The door clicks shut. Sapnap is gone. George is sat in front of Dream and to the left, sipping at his drink occasionally and scrolling through his phone. The younger man always has his coffee too strong, always makes their entire house and the surrounding seafront area smell of his fucking coffee, and it's somehow one of the list of things that makes Dream want George so much more.

As he's thinking about this, he watches George start to nibble at the edge of his nail, still scrolling, his eyebrows furrowed a little as he reads something on the screen. It's stupid how much Dream wants to hold his hand and wake up next to him and cuddle with him and whisper to him at night and just, have George in every way. He wants George more than anything.

While the thought terrifies him beyond belief, it somehow feels right. George feels like home, and Dream's been searching for years, lost in a tangle of growing up and being in the spotlight and finding his own identity, but finally, he feels like he's found something secure and stable. And it's George, it's always been George.

**———**

**"DREAM?"**

_Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. Fuck._

They had been doing so well with just pretending nothing has happened and everything was okay, and George just had to go and ruin it like that.

_Fuck!_

Dream swallows, forcing himself to turn and look at the bleach-blond, slouched in the sofa without a care in the world. "I-Is this it? Are we.... talking about.... it?" He finishes weakly, hoping the emotion in his voice doesn't trigger George into pitying him. That'd be the worst for both of them right now, if George lied to his face and faked it just to make Dream feel better.

"I think we need to." George's voice is a lot stronger than Dream has ever felt. "I don't regret it, at all."

It's a jolt to Dream's system, hearing him confess that, a lightning bolt rendering him temporarily scorched and stunned. "You... Not a-at all? Even though it was.... Like, me and y-you?"

George shrugs. "No? If you mean like, because it's us, and we're both men, then why should I? I've never really cared about gender, just never had the opportunity to really talk about it or openly date a man, you know?"

His head is spinning - Dream feels like the room has been sent into a tornado and he's about to lose his footing. George has just looked him dead in the eyes and told him he likes men. _Dream's a man._

"Is it a problem for you?" George prods, and suddenly it's all welling up in his throat, the desire to just spill it all out and tell him everything, and he's near shaking in fear, his heart is beating in his mouth, but he has to. He has to.

"I-I'm.... No, no, not at all, I'm just so scared, George. But I-I-I think...."

He can't bring himself to finish the sentence, but George gets it. George always gets him, always has.

"Oh, _Clay._ I'm so proud of you."

Dream bursts into full-force tears then, his head feeling as though it's finally clicked into place and righted itself as he sobs and cries into George's arms, the younger man accepting him and holding him so tightly that it seems like he's trying to keep all of Dream's broken pieces together. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

George shakes his head viciously, wordlessly telling him that no, he has nothing to be sorry about. It's okay. It'll all be okay. "How long have you known?"

 _Years,_ Dream thinks. Years he's coped with not understanding his own lack of stereotypical romantic feelings and his constant terror of not being normal, of being broken in some way, of wanting George in such an all-encompassing way but never knowing how to describe it.

He doesn't verbally answer, can't bring himself to open his mouth when it feels as though all his body has been melted down into jelly. Fear of being found out was the one thing keeping him upright, and now that he's finally losing that, Dream doesn't know what to do.

"Talk to me, Clay, just.... I know you have a lot you need to say, I can tell, and I promise you I'm going to listen to every last word. You're safe now."

 _Because you're with me, and I understand. I understand how scary it is, how much it hurts to be told that you're wrong and unfixable._ The words aren't said, but the tone is so perfectly George and the implication is so screamingly loud that Dream wants to reflexively cringe back from it.

And so George holds him, there, tightly, and lets Dream finally spill his mind out into the open, so they can pick through the shattered mess together, and maybe form something whole out of it.

**———**

**THE TRUTH IS, DREAM DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE’S SO SCARED OF.**

He grew up around his parents, hearing them parrot the same conservative views that the TV set spouted, and that drilled it into his head that liking men was wrong, disgusting, he was broken.

There's something about George that makes him feel a little more whole.

Dream can't place his finger on exactly what it is, whether it's the glow of his eyes, or the shine of his smile in the sunlight, or the glitter he insists on wearing no matter what. Maybe it's the way he always cares about what you have to say, or just the sheer, undeniable light that radiates off the younger man.

But despite everything, despite George being so perfect, Dream's still scared. Fear isn't a rational emotion, not at all, and so he stays scared.

**———**

**THEY VISIT THE BEACH AGAIN** \- not a difficult task, since they often have sand coming up to their doorstep - but this time, it's in thirty degree weather and George is fully shirtless.

He casts Dream a smirk when he sees the shorter man near salivating over the expanse of his body, and he flushes such a bright red that Sapnap asks three times if he needs an ice-pack to cool down (it takes both George and Dream swearing blind that he's okay for the younger man to back off).

For an early Saturday morning, there's an abnormal amount of people around, and Sapnap looks slightly jarred at the prospect of it being so warm, and in the midst of such a crowded area. "I am going to burn to death. George, I am going to melt and I want you to drag my melted remains into a pile."

"No." The younger man's response is simple, and that's when Dream knows he must be whipped - one syllable out of George's mouth and he's fighting down the blush that's threatening to rise in his cheeks again.

It seems almost like George has a sixth sense for this sort of thing: he looks straight at Dream as he sets down the deckchair, and signals for the other man to join him as he sits down. Naturally, he goes for the other chair, but with the sheer speed of a leopard, George grabs him by the waist and pulls him down, until Dream is seated on George's lap, with his head on George's chest, and George's arms holding him close, and George's lips right next to his ear. 

Fuck Sapnap, George's going to have to scrape a melted Dream up off the floor in a minute.

"He's kinda fit."

Dream follows George's line of sight, eventually seeing a guy halfway across the beach lying with someone else. "George, he has a girlfriend. She's right there, next to him."

He yelps as he's suddenly jolted by George shrugging, seemingly as though he forgot about the man on his lap. "Might be a problem, but not for you, handsome fucker."

The ease at which George compliments him and borderline flirts with him makes Dream's blood run hotter in his veins, makes him want to turn around and take George right here and now, on the beach, in front of everyone and Sapnap.

 _Fuck, Sapnap. Again._ Dream should probably tell him sooner rather than later, that him and George have this weird thing going on where they're both skating around actually labelling it, and Dream's too scared to admit it to himself and George's trying his hardest to get Dream to open up to him and it's all a massive pile of pure confusion and emotional pain.

As if sensing his presence in the runway of Dream's mind, the black-haired man shows right back up next to them, once again just raising an eyebrow at the proximity of the two of them. "Are you two not.... burning up over there?"

 _Oh, yeah._ Dream thinks. _Can you not tell, dumbass? Do I look even remotely okay right now?_

George cuddles up like he's trying to prove some sort of point to Sapnap, forcing Dream as close to his body as possible. His skin is tacky to the touch from heat, and it almost feels like their bodies are trying to stay together, fuse together like Dream wishes they could.

"Clay’s all warm 'n' cuddly, shut up. You just wish you had someone to cuddle like this."

Sapnap rolls his eyes, before narrowing them at the duo. "No, but, again, you're like.... really close to each other. Are you....?"

The insinuation of the question makes Dream genuinely flinch, and it's big enough that both George and the other man notice it. It's an automatic reaction, and again he wishes that he didn't react like that, but the damage is done and Sapnap is frowning and mumbling an apology and something about 'being back in a minute'.

"Hey, Clay, you okay? 'S alright, come here."

There isn't anywhere to go, no possible way for Dream to get any closer to George, and so he just flops down and lets himself lie in George's arms. Now he thinks about it, Dream can't remember the last time he just let someone hold him. It must have been months ago, possibly longer - ever since the sexuality crisis started to creep in, he's felt overly uncomfortable being close with anyone.

"Do you want to head back and talk to Sap?" George starts, instantly registering the way Dream's expression transforms to one of a deer in headlights. "I-I mean, you don't have to, but if you're comfortable with it, then I'll come and sit with you and everything, you know? I just think he's kinda confused, and I-I know you are too, Clay, but I think if you're okay with it then he deserves to know. About us."

"Us? George, what- what do you mean, like? What are we?"

"Don't have to label it, I just meant us, as like a duo. Terrible twosome. George 'n' Dream. Batman and Robin. Tom and-"

He pushes at George's chest, laughing as he does and nearly falling onto the sand. "Shut the fuck up, bro! Just.... don't want to have labels, at the moment. Just want to take it slow."

George nods, suddenly sombre, and scratches at Dream's hair a little. "That's okay. Whatever you're comfortable with. I've always got your back, Clay, you know that. And like I've said before, if you need to talk about literally anything, I'm right here for you."

Dream's heart pulses with something that feels vaguely romantic: it's a sensation that hasn't flown through his body for a while now, but the saccharine taste is still familiar. It tastes of mint and strawberry and sweetness, of George through and through.

**———**

**THEY RETURN HOME A WHILE LATER** \- despite his slip-up earlier, Sapnap seems back to his usual dryly sarcastic self, and Dream feels a lot more at ease with it.

The door clicks shut, and before he can think better of it: "Sapnap? Sap, hey, we n-need to, like, talk. About. What happened earlier."

Sapnap nods slowly, just once, gesturing for him to sit down. George immediately stands next to Dream, hands twitching like they want to rest on his shoulders, but he can't bring himself to do it, or knows it's inappropriate.

"Clay, are you.... And George, like....?"

"Y-Yeah. Not like, like.... together, but.... You know."

It's the best Dream can do, especially after feeling George flinch behind him; the idea of saying the words makes it feel all too real, and so he skates around the actual topic and hopes that Sapnap gets what he's trying to say. (Of course he does. It's Sapnap. Dream could speak to him telepathically, and he'd still understand.)

_"Oh."_

He seems almost disappointed, and Dream's throat closes up at the idea that he's ruined everything. Not George, George has never done anything wrong, George's so perfect and beautiful and happy and bright and Dream is dark and disgusting and fucking it up for all three of them. "Sap? Please say something, I-"

"No, no, Dream, it's okay! I'm proud of you, alright? Thank you for telling me, I love you. _Dumbass."_

Sapnap's body is soft and warm, he notices, as he envelops Dream in yet another hug - they're way too touchy lately, considering the constant sexuality crisis going on in Dream's head, but he accepts it and cries onto the older man's bare shoulder for as long as he'll let him.

**———**

**DREAM FINDS HIMSELF IN GEORGE’S BED THAT NIGHT,** curled up next to the younger man at his request as they eat pizza and try to avoid the blatant sexual tension they're both dripping in.

Sapnap is in the other room, probably asleep already, and there's nothing to stop either of them making the move. It's late enough for the constant flow of self-hatred in Dream's head to stop, and his only thought is about kissing George and having everything with George, everything.

He's sat so close to Dream that they can feel each other's breathing, and George's movement is driving him crazy; he can't take this, he can't, he has to do something soon or he's going to lose his mind.

"....George?"

_"Dream."_

George's breathing is already ragged and they haven't even touched yet, and Dream wants to wreck him so much it's unhealthy. There's no way for either of them to fight against this rising tide any more. And they're both fully sober this time, and Dream is wrapping his fingers in George's hair and crashing their lips together so quickly it's almost painful.

The two of them move in tandem, Dream pressing George down into the bed and keeping him as close as they possibly can. Every point that they aren't touching feels like frostbite on his skin, and Dream's burning up again like Icarus in the sun, the waxy hatred in his mind melting away into nothing as he falls into George.

It's soft, quiet at first, but George is whining and moaning gently into Dream's mouth, and the younger man is suddenly driven with some sort of primal need to see how far they can go, see how loud George can be. He bites at his lower lip, brushes his tongue into George's mouth, and he goes completely lax under Dream's body.

Once again, Dream's brain feels disconnected from his body, but in a better way this time - he's hazy with the sensation of George underneath him, with the feeling of the younger man slowly losing control under Dream's touch.

George moans again into the air as Dream moves down to kissing and biting at his neck, slightly louder this time, like he's trying not to wake Sapnap but can't help himself.

Dream's fingers are twitching in the sheets, like he wants to take it further, like he wants to touch the other man but can't bring himself to.

Somehow, he still can't bring himself to.

**———**

**IT FEELS AS THOUGH** George spends more time shirtless than not when he's in Dream's presence, and Dream can't complain about that.

They're still lying in bed, George sat on Dream's lap as the younger man scrolls through his phone and the older man fights the urge to flip him over and press kisses to his neck and jaw all over again. It's probably not good for him, how much Dream's attracted to George despite the rhetoric his brain repeats to him, but then George laughs at something on the screen and the heatwave flows through again.

He isn't sure how long it takes, but Dream eventually tunes into the sound of George repeating his name, pushing at his shoulder weakly to try and get his attention.

"Sorry, sorry, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just.... I don't want to push you into anything, but...."

As he realises what George's asking, the twist of pain strikes behind his eyes - Dream goes dizzy from some sort of fear, and tries to breathe through it, tries to meet George's eyes through the tears building up, and answer him. The blue of his irises is somehow dulling the knife of pain, but somehow, amidst it all, he smiles.

"I-I'm scared, George. I'm so scared. But...." He swallows softly. "I think.... I like you more than I hate myself. A-And maybe it's not hate, maybe I'm just so terrified, but you're so much more than anything that could hurt me, I need you so much, god, George, I need you more than anything."

George mouths Dream's name, his eyes wide as Dream stares just past him, eyes tracing the window pane behind the younger man. The sea is calm tonight - it's not uncommon for them to fall asleep to the taste of sea salt on the air and the sound of the choppy waves, but it's calm. Tranquil.

"Are we....?"

"I want to be yours." Dream whispers, the words screaming and loud in the silence of the room. "I-I want you, George."

They don't say anything after that. George's hands are cold and soft on Dream's waist as he pulls himself closer to the older man's body, tucking his head into Dream's neck and falling asleep in Dream's arms.

_Dream's. He's Dream's, and Dream is his._

That thought plays quietly in his head as Dream follows George into unconsciousness, his fingers splayed out across the expanse of George's back, keeping him close.

**———**

**FROM THERE ON, IT EASES.**

Just a little, but it definitely eases. The screaming in Dream's head dulls to a soft roar, mostly drowned out every time George laughs at one of his stupid, senseless jokes. It's easier to ignore the thoughts when George is in his arms. George makes everything lighter.

Dream spends more time on the beach. He isn't sure if there's a particular reason for it, maybe because it's where everything with George was all set into motion, or because he's usually alone - there's a cove just hidden around the corner that barely anybody knows about (Sapnap only found it once, when Dream was on some sort of self-destructive kick and trying to hide from the world), and lately, it's become Dream's number one safe space.

There's a lot playing on his mind, now that he can actually focus on it. How he feels about his sexuality, how his family are going to react - because they'll find out eventually, it's inevitable - and mainly, how he's coping with this whole jolt and change in his identity.

They sleep together, more often than not. Never in a sexual way, Dream isn't secure enough to think about going any further with George at the moment, but there's something about the act of George being so asleep and vulnerable every night that makes Dream's heart feel a little more full every time.

He's taking it day by day. Slowly but surely. It aches and burns and pains him sometimes, but he's working his way through it, with George by his side and some renewed sense of belonging.

It occurs to him then, that this is the most whole he's ever felt. There's always been something missing, Dream's always had some sort of craving for something more, and George seems to have given it to him without even realising.

A shadow slips around the wall of the cove, Dream just sees it in the corner of his eye, and his head whips around to see George, frozen mid-step, a sheepish smile on his face. "Hey, sorry." he whispers. "Just.... wanted to come 'n' see you. I-I remembered that you and Sapnap always come down here when you need to think, so...."

Dream nods, silently, his eyes warm, and George steps over the rocks between them until he can seat himself on the older man's lap, wrapping his arms around Dream's neck to hold himself steady.

They go quiet again, George cuddled up close to Dream's body, a solid weight on his thighs and against his chest. Dream absentmindedly strokes his boy's hair, George humming softly when he does, and together, they sit there.

The sun is beating down over the ocean, over the waves, the ripples sending tiny candle lights down the tide and towards the two of them. It casts a golden light over George's face, hair, eyelashes, coating him in something regal and ethereal, something that makes Dream fall in love with him more. He may be more than a little biased, but Dream thinks George is easily the prettiest man alive, especially when the dusk is setting in and his irises glitter just like the sea.

Dream kisses him, just along the curve of his jaw, and George closes his eyes as if he's trying to revel in the feeling. And so he shuffles around and kisses George again, and again, until they're barely even breaking apart to breathe, staying as close as they can because Dream thinks he might die if George pulls away now. If he ever, ever, has to stray away from the younger man, he thinks his body might simply shut down.

"My boy." Dream whispers, like it's some sort of secret, looking up to meet George's eyes. "So, so pretty."

George flushes a little, his lips nearly as red as his cheeks as he presses his face against Dream's neck again. "I love you."

Dream doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing the younger man telling him that. "I love you so much more." He says into George's hair, holding him closer.

The sun is bright across their intertwined bodies, glowing like something to be desired, something beautiful, and for once, finally, here with his boyfriend in his lap, Dream feels at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/sapn8p?s=21)


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